


Day 1 - Getting Home

by Pippitypopadoo



Series: StoryADay May 2014 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Post Post-Apocalyptic, What is the post of a post apocalyptic world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippitypopadoo/pseuds/Pippitypopadoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road home's a long one. It is the start of an end, and a beginning to a start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1 - Getting Home

**Author's Note:**

> Also on LJ: http://j-aspie.livejournal.com/2416.html  
> And tumblr: http://thepoppyiswriting.tumblr.com/post/84412945956/storyaday-may-2014-day-1

_"--crrk-- is still on the loose and the --crrk--sident's sister has yet to be found. We are unable to reach the Preside-crrk- comment, but the Chief of Police has increased the securit -crrrrrk-"_ Thompson adjusted the dial knob on the radio, eyes not leaving the road.  _"... are advised to stay in their homes. In other news, the statement released yesterday indicates that while the government expects all DMWs to be eliminated by the next quarter, suburban and rural areas are unsafe for habitation and citizens are advised to steer clear of them..."_  
  
There was rustling from the back of the car and Thompson switched off the radio, smiling into the rear-view mirror. "Hey, you're finally awake, sleeping beauty! Is it comfortable, back there?" He heard a drowsy sound and chuckled. "Good, good, I'm glad you had a good rest! Probably won't get much of it from now on, seems like the road home ain't gonna be safe for us! Might get a bit bumpy later."  
  
The sun was setting behind them as they drove eastwards, through fields of golden wheat. It was a nice sight, pretty and peaceful, much like back in the days before those Dead Men Walking started to zombie about. Heh, whoever coined up the DMW thing was pretty stupid but at least it kept people saner, giving them some acronym rather than talking about zombies that people with great imagination dream about killing while they sit with their pals and drink beer. Zombies that were very real and probably ate their spouses and kids, or _were_ their spouses and kids and were trying to eat them.  
  
It was a messy time back then, like the end of the world or something. 'Course, in times of trouble, that's when the top dogs stand out. All the gangs and factions and whatnot came out, and above them was  _La Luna_.  
  
People couldn't agree if they were bloodthirsty mercenaries or ruthless adrenaline-junkies, but everyone knew that there was the La Luna because the people in them? The people in them were lunatics. Oh, they couldn't decide if they were crazy or _crazy_ , but they were lunatics all right. Rumours had it that they'd go against a horde of DMWs with just a few men with _swords_ while the rest would just watch the show behind them. Their leader, Wolf, would be wearing a real wolf pelt, all black and shiny, and he'd lean against a tree and complain that they were taking too long.  
  
And all? For  _fun_.  
  
What a world. Who could just survive on swords?  
  
At any rate, people generally either shook their head disapprovingly at the mention of La Luna and then prayed they would never see them, or shrug and say “Hey, at least they’re clearing them hoards. ’slong as we don’t cross them or look at ‘em the wrong way, should be fine... Last I heard, they’re at the other side of the country anyway, near the rural areas?” But now that the government had gotten a better control of the situation, Thompson expected that they’d start to clamp down on these gangs when it was all over too.  
  
It’s about a good time as any to go home now.  
  
There was a muffled sound from the back, then someone shoving another. At the loud thump of hitting the side of the care, Thompson tsked. “Hey hey, children, play nice now, you’re rocking the car.”  
  
“She’s just not- ow!” Evan scowled from the back.  
  
“Did you just-  Oh, come on, we’re reaching Justinton Town. If you annoy me too much, I’ll feed you to the zombies outside. And I mean it.”  
  
There was a blissful second of silence, then “There are still zombies here? I thought they were cleared the last time.”  
  
Thompson shot Evan a disapproving look through the mirror. “Did I bring you up wrong? Is it that damn Cassie’s influence? What did I teach you?” He thought he heard a mumble of “You didn’t even raise me” and turned from his seat to give Evan an unimpressed look.  
  
“Okay okay! Sorry, geez, please keep your eyes on the road! I’ll stop thinking.”  
  
“That’s right, don’t think. Observe and listen. Sense your surroundings, and don’t think for one moment that you are safe. Because you are not, not yet.” Thompson looked out at the window and pointedly ignore the sudden sombre mood that had blanketed the car. He didn’t mean to bring them down, but life was life and life gave no shits about anyone. His eyes were drawn to the wildflowers that had grown strong along the roads. His mother would have loved those flowers; they were the shade of his mama’s eyes.  
  
“And really Evan, what are you doing, thinking with that small head of yours? You’ll break something in there, and we wouldn’t want our little kid to do that now, do we?” Simmon, quiet throughout the ride, finally piped up from beside Thompson. They smiled cheekily into the mirror, teeth a flash of bright against their brown face. Though his right-hand was usually a quiet one, Thompson could always count on them to have his back, even at a time like this where they were simply sitting in a car. But besides lifting the mood that he had created, them using their sarcastic humour was a plus that he appreciated a lot. It was great that they were smiling more often now, they had a tough life.  
  
All of them had, at the expense of this shitty world.  
  
Man, he probably needed to be less negative.  
  
“…don’t be rude to me,” Evan was complaining. “I’m Marie’s favourite.”  
  
“That’s what she says, but we know what it’s like in bed.” Simmon’s smile became wicked and Thompson was not sure whether he wanted to laugh at the pained ew-no-i-do-not-want-to-know-what-you-two-do-in-bed-god- _Simmon_  on Evan’s face or commiserate with him.  
  
He cleared his throat. “Well, as long as you’re keeping our resident sharpshooter happy, can we please change the subject?”  
  
"What, isn’t it more like  _she’s_  keeping your right-hand non-binary person happy and not the other way round? Thompson, I am  _hurt_.”  
  
“Eyes on the road, baby.”  
  
“Only for you,” Simmon simpered, but went back to driving.  
  
There was a soft cough from the back. “You are a pretty strange lot. Could I have some water please?” Simmon gave him a look and raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet as Thompson passed a bottle to the back.  
  
“Anything to keep this a classy and comfortable ride for our guest. I trust the seats are to your comfort?” Thompson smiled genially.  
  
The woman sitting at the back flushed, but did not duck from his gaze. “There is more to be desired, but be assured that the in-house entertainment went beyond my expectations.” She said tartly. Evans stared at her and Thompson thought Simmon was shaking so much in their mirth that they’re probably going to drive them into a tree now.  
  
He eyed her some more, then declared loudly, “I like you. I suppose won’t throw you to out to feed you to the zombies for now.” She blinked at him.  
  
“Hey, what about me?” Evan glared at her. The woman turned to him in surprise and upon seeing his put out face, started to chuckle. Evan furrowed his eyebrows, then it became a considering look, a frown becoming something less.  
  
 _Aww kid, don’t tell me_ … Thompson looked between them, then retreated back to his seat. “Shit, Simmon, they’re having a  _moment_ ,” he whispered.  
  
“Don’t fret, Dad. I’m driving, stop hitting my arm.”  
  
“Do something!” he hissed.  
  
“Yes, okay, stop it. Damn, but you gotta let the kids fly some day-  _okay!_ Geez. Evan? Be a dear and do the signals? We’ve got a hoard coming in at our 1 o’clock, you’ll be going with Cassie’s.”  
  
“Dayum, that big?  All righty.” There was the sound of the window rolling down, then-  
  
“He climbed out again, didn’t he?” Thompson asked.  
  
“Yep,” Simmon said.  
  
“Marie warned him not to do it before, didn’t she?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“She’s gonna shoot him.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Shame, this car’s gonna be quiet without him.”  
  
“Aww, you gonna miss him?” Simmon grinned.  
  
“I’m gonna miss having someone to punch.” He grinned back, then climbed to the seat at the back. Their guest looked at him apprehensively, but he watched the window. Moments later, a truck drove up beside them. The people inside smiled at him, Cassie waving her pistol (they’ll have to talk about weapon safety again later), and they all formed the L-sign with their finger and thumb. He nodded at them and raised his middle three fingers in response. There was a loud whoop – probably Cassie – and then the truck sped forward to the DMZs ahead. They would probably make short work of them.  
  
“So.” Thompson closed the window and shared a look with Simmon through the mirror. Simmon cocked their head in a  _go ahead_  gesture and he turned to the woman.  
  
“Why do you have me?” she asked, her voice slightly wavering but her head held high, her gaze steady. A strong woman, this one, like his mama. Afraid, but not cowed. He could respect that. Either going to be a tough opponent, a great enemy if they were not careful, or… if they did this right, then a powerful ally.  
  
“You probably know the answer to that already.”  
  
“Ransom. But I doubt you have need of money.”  
  
“We don’t have much of it.”  
  
“But you don’t  _need_  it,” she corrected.  
  
“No, we don’t.”  Thompson smiled.  
  
“Blackmail, then? My brother?”  
  
Thompson hummed. “Not quite. It depends.”  
  
“On?”  
  
“What we find out.”  
  
“Find out what? Can we please not play this game?”  
  
“That’s hard, unfortunately, when it’s your brother who insists that we do.” Thompson replied, watching her closely.  
  
“I… What?”  
  
“Your dear brother, Mr. President, has been playing the people of this country for fools.” He leaned forward, slightly impressed when she stilled but did not move back. “We’re going home, back to the capitol. And you, Miss Jennifer Wenston, will be helping us find out what the hell he is up to.”  
  
And then, the Wolf smiled.


End file.
